The Other Side of the Spectrum
by Cybra
Summary: Rhonda's thoughts after "Rhonda Goes Broke".


The Other Side of the Spectrum

By Cybra

A/N: Confession time. I am _not_ a big fan of Rhonda. The only reason I'm writing this is because I actually _liked_ her in the episode "Rhonda Goes Broke" and I got struck by inspiration. (My muse practically hit me over the head with a baseball bat. Thank you, Izzy…) Besides, it doesn't seem like Arnold really has all that much money. (His grandparents must've saved for months or maybe a year or two to fix up that room in such a nifty way!)

Disclaimer: Do I _look_ like Craig Barlett? …Didn't think so. Hey Arnold! ain't mine, bucko, so keep reading.

It was a sad day when I, Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd, went broke.

One minute, I was living the high life, enjoying fancy new shoes, looking forward to our ski trip in Aspen…

Then, Daddy tells me that our stocks plummeted and we lost everything.

And I do mean _everything!_

We lost the furniture, most of our clothes, our house…

Oh, but that wasn't _enough._ We Lloyds had to live _far_ below our comfort level…

We moved into _Arnold's_ boarding house with all those weirdo boarders along his psychotic grandparents. Arnold was the only one _sane_ there!

Arnold's an okay guy, actually. Very suave, sophisticated, knowledgeable, trustworthy…

…I just never really thought about his situation.

His room is the envy of every kid in the fourth grade. (I am ashamed to admit this, but not even _my_ trendy room compares with _his_ custom-designed room that he and his grandparents spent years designing, saving up, and fixing up.) The place is very chic, very relaxed. Even the wallpaper – which, ordinarily, I'd say looks tacky – just adds to the whole atmosphere of the room. It's the best room in the Sunset Arms boarding house.

The room my family had temporarily lived in included a fold-down bed, a perfect view of the building next to us' brick wall, and even rats crawling along the radiator.

Needless to say, I was not very impressed.

When Arnold poked his head in to say hello, I made the biggest social faux pas I can possibly think of…

"I would appreciate it if you would just keep it under wraps. If anyone knew I was _living_ here, they might get the wrong impression. After all, it is a dump."

Those last four words earned me one of the coldest glares that I've ever seen Arnold give someone followed by an equally cold "Rhonda, _I_ live here."

When Arnold said that one sentence, you could practically hear, "You did _not_ just say that."

I admit it. I insulted him. Right to his face. I mean, this isn't whispering-behind-his-back kinda stuff that I'll do at school (What he doesn't know can't hurt him, right?). This was an in-his-face diss on his _home._

And I went to _charm_ _school!_

What was _wrong_ with me, you ask?

Think about it. I have all the money and _stuff_ I could want, and quicker than you can say "Broke", I'm p-p-…the opposite of rich.

My attempt to recover only added to the sudden chill in the air. "Well, this is okay for an artistic type like yourself, but I have a reputation to maintain."

That's right. I insulted him again. I didn't mean it, but I did it.

I lived several days under the worst conditions I could think of and I complained the whole time. (Who wouldn't?) And when the others found out about my financial problems…

…Well, I spent most of the time sobbing my eyes out and asking "Why?"

Then Arnold finally came in…and told me I was being pathetic.

And here I was, thinking that he was gonna cheer me up by somehow fixing my family's money problems, by somehow making the world right again…

…Just like he always does.

I took his advice to try to be my old self only without money when the news came…

I was _rich_ again!

I tossed the hat I had on the ground, happily rejecting my former poverty.

…It landed at his feet.

That's when it finally hit me. When I _finally_ got the message:

I had been crying myself into nothing until he pulled me out of it…

…And I had been in the same position temporarily that he's in practically every day.

I don't know why, but I always thought good people always got the good stuff in life. I mean, _I'm_ a good person and I'm one of the wealthiest kids around!

Yet, he somehow ended up with the short end of the stick. He's living at the opposite end of the spectrum. I'm rich and living the good life, he and his grandparents are making it comfortably but with not much extra. I can easily buy the hottest new CD; he has to save up to buy that same CD a few weeks later after it's no longer at the top of the charts. I can afford the newest, most expensive watches from Paris; he uses one of his grandpa's old pocket watches. I can buy a nice thick leather-bound book and give it away after I read it if I don't like it. He saves up and buys that book when it comes out in paperback over a year later and hangs on to it for quite a while, reading it a few times before getting rid of it.

Daddy told me that it was just a bad roll of the dice.

I say it just isn't fair.

But, hey, it's the way the world works, right?

Even though he's p-p-…not wealthy, my cousin noticed something about him when she came to visit before this whole thing happened.

He doesn't _carry_ himself like he's…in that position.

I can still hear that conversation with Cousin Rachel in my mind:

"Oh…my God. Rhonda, who _is_ that?!"

"Huh? Oh, that's Arnold, the guy who gives out more advice than Dear Abby."

Rude, yes. I thought I was _so_ superior and I was going to tell my cousin what was what instead of the other way around.

"Really…? He's pretty cute." Rachel had grinned here. I'd never thought of Arnold as "cute" before so I had just shrugged before she continued, "So…does he have a girlfriend?"

"No. He used to have a thing for Lila, but I think it's pretty much burned out of his system." I had noticed that he hadn't been following Lila like a lost puppy for over two weeks.

"Ah…Where does he live? King Street? 5th Avenue?"

I had scoffed at the very _idea_ of Arnold living in the more classy sections of Hillwood. "Yeah, right. Try the boarding house on Vine Street."

"You're kidding. _That_ place?!" She had paused while I nodded. "Funny, I thought he _had_ to be uptown material."

"Why?"

"Because of the way he walks. He's more like an aristocrat than a…peasant."

When I looked back at Arnold who was looking down at my hat that day I found out I was rich again, that conversation slapped me in the face.

I had felt pretty down…especially after everyone found out. I had walked to school with my head down, shuffling my feet and feeling sorry for myself.

He walks down the hall almost every day with his head held high, a smile on his face, and with easy steps in those cheap black sneakers.

How does he do it?

How can he walk the halls with people like me and not feel…well…_inferior_ because of his position?!

In that one brief second I realized that money had never been important to him. His sense of pride kept him from falling into the same funk I had fallen prey to. He wasn't rich, but that didn't mean that he couldn't be the person he wanted to be.

I finally understood the lesson he'd taught me.

Since I had money again, I gave him a special "thank you" by giving him a ten-dollar bill as a tip. I told him I knew how people in his position appreciated little things like this before I rode off with Mommy and Daddy.

I look back now and I see why he tried to give me back the ten the next time I saw him after my trip to Aspen.

I'd insulted him.

No.

I'd insulted his _pride._

Again.

I can still see that scene…

It had been right after I got my food from the lunch line. I had sat down at a corner table, waiting for Nadine when he walked up to me.

"I think this is yours." He held out his hand to me, the ten-dollar bill on his palm.

I immediately waved it away. "Keep it, it's yours. You earned it."

"Thanks but, Rhonda, I don't _want_ your money."

"Arnold…" I gasped, shocked. "I'm sure you must be – "

"I'm not making a mistake," he interrupted me, forcing the money into my hand. "I don't want your money. It's a nice thought, but I can't accept your…'tip'. I didn't really earn it anyway. You did almost all of the work yourself." He gave me a kind yet firm look. "Please don't try to give it to me. I'll only give it right back somehow."

"But…why…?"

He laughed a little. "It's like Jakkin said in The Pit Dragon Trilogy by Jane Yolen: I fill my bag myself." That said, he gave me a wave and walked away.

I didn't understand what he meant, so I bought the books and learned that that statement basically said that Arnold didn't want handouts because of pride. He would get by on his own.

The point of all this is that I've come out of that whole experience respecting him a little more. After all…

It's hard living on the other side of the spectrum.


End file.
